"It's coming, Caspar," the Colonel answered. "That's my belief."
"And I shan't be sorry if it does," said Ernie with a quiet vindictiveness.
"Shall you go?" asked the Colonel. He knew the other's time as a reservist was up.
"Sha'n't I?" Ernie answered with something like a snort.
The Colonel was not deceived. It was not the patriot, not the old soldier, who had uttered that cry of distress: it was the human being, bruised and suffering, and anxious to vent his pain in violence on something or somebody, no matter much who.
"Yes, sir, I shall go, if it's only as cook in the Army Service Corps."
The Colonel shook his head.
"If it comes," he said, "every fighting man'll be wanted in his right place. Would you like to rejoin the old battalion at Aldershot, if I can work it for you? Then you'd go out with the Expeditionary Force."
Ernie's eyes gleamed.
"Ah, just wouldn't I?" he said.